Swamp Gothic
by LadyCraulnober
Summary: Nightcrawler's past comes back to haunt him and he must depend on the aid from an unlikely source. Inspired by the covers of Nightcrawler #7 and #9
1. On the Fritz

**Disclaimer!!**

I do not own the X-Men. That would be slavery and slavery is wrong. Besides, Mojo already tried that and look how things turned out for him. Also this fic was created for recreational purposes only and should under no circumstances be taken seriously. The FDA would also like me to caution readers that prolonged exposure to this work of fiction may result in the contracting of wagner-itis, a disease which causes the uncontrollable urge to hug, squeeze and otherwise glomp all things blue and fuzzy. Do not attempt to drive or operate heavy machinery after reading this fic. Vo Do De Oh Do and Scoddy Woddy Do Da Day. Thank you.

**Author's Note**: before I say anything else, I want to thank you guys for your reviews. (You know who you are) I'm glad you found the original interesting enough to want more. Unfortunately I ran out of steam with that version. I can't really explain it, but it just didn't feel right, so here's the new, improved version. Hopefully this one wont disappoint. Again, thanks for reading!

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The two men could not have been more different. One was tall, broad shouldered and statuesque with a chiseled, square jawed face. His dark brown hair was combed neatly and parted to the side, his face clean shaven. He was clad in a crisp suit and tie and wore proudly on one arm the band that proclaimed him a high ranking member of the Friends of Humanity. The other man was short and squat with spindly limbs and a belly that spilled over his worn leather belt, his pale skin creased and worn like paper that had been crumpled up and forgotten. It gave him the look of an old spider. What was left of his hair was, like his scraggly beard, lank and slate grey. His nondescript clothes were grimy and worn and his smell was less than sweet. He leaned heavily on a plain wooden walking stick as he looked up at the man from the F.o.H, his colorless eyes surprisingly shrewd and glacially cold.

They stood facing each other in the midst of an old circus. All around them people were busy about the happy labor of pleasure despite the dilapidated condition of the attractions and the woebegone looks of the employees. Perhaps that was part of it's scant mystique; the mingling of cobwebs and the haunting siren song of the calliope, the smell of dust. It certainly drew a very singular crowd, the freak show especially. Still, that was not enough. The circus was on it's last legs.

"Have we a deal then?" The tall man asked, crossing his arms imperiously over his chest. The shorter of the two cocked his head to the side and squinted up at him with one eye a moment before responding.

"Yeah. You got yourself a deal." He said, holding out one gnarled hand and flashing a smile that revealed what was left of his mostly rotten teeth. They shook hands, suddenly laughing, oblivious to the stares cast their way by the faceless strangers all around them.

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Kurt Wagner paused in the shadow of an old theater, panting slightly, clinging to the wall as easily as a spider, nearly invisible in the shadows. On the dimly lit street beyond he could see a crowd of angry young men prowling past. Kurt shook his head sadly, backing deeper into the shadows between the dilapidated old theater and the Italian café next door. Tearing his incandescent yellow gaze from the mob he began to fiddle with what appeared to be a sport watch on his blue furred wrist. Of course his image inducer would decide to go on the fritz in the middle of a crowded ice cream parlor, and of course it would happen during a time that was proving to be difficult indeed for mutants.

Xavier's decision to have his X-Men go public had been met with a wave of anger and hatred like none Kurt had seen before. Admittedly they all knew things would get very much worse before they got better, but it was still disconcerting. The friends of humanity had resurfaced, their ranks swelling thanks in large to the work of Purity and the anti-mutant propaganda on their website. Even the registration act and the sentinel programs were being revived. In all it was not a good time to be a mutant.

With a disgusted sigh he gave up on his image inducer. It seemed all there was to do was get back to the institute and have Beast take a look at it. Perhaps it was time to ask for a new model. His long, barbed tail lashing in agitation, he peered out onto the street once more. It seemed the mob had bypassed his hiding place, the streets now silent. Darkness was descending swiftly, broken only by the amber light of streetlamps as it glimmered on the damp pavement. Overhead a kettledrum beat of thunder rumbled and lightning briefly illuminated angry purple clouds. Moving with the skill and ease of a practiced aerialist, Kurt clambered up the side of the theater and paused, perched on the corner of it's roof like a living gargoyle. He could hear several raised voices and more rapid footfalls. He tensed, ready to jaunt in case his pursuers had returned.

That was not the case, however. A young woman was running from a group of four or five broad shouldered men who were wolf whistling and laughing raucously as they made attempts to subdue her. Even as he watched, the girl, a small slip of as thing with long dark hair tied into a ponytail, slipped in a puddle of rainwater and fell face-first onto the concrete, her glasses skidding away a few feet. She groped madly for them on her hands and knees as the men formed a loose circle around her, still laughing as if they were playing the greatest game in creation. The sight made Kurt's blood boil. He knew what it was like to be hunted, to be the victim. He knew better than many. He had vowed to never be a victim again, to protect those who could not protect themselves. That was why he had joined the X-Men and that was why, without a second thought, he teleported directly into the center of the young men's crude circle.

They fell back a few steps, shock and uncertainty registering one each of their faces. Kurt smiled grimly to himself, the expression seeming to put even more fear into the young woman's pursuers. He didn't give them time to recover themselves. Instead he wrapped his lean arms around the frightened girl before she could so much as scream, much less put her horn rimmed glasses back on.

"Auf wiedersehen." he called cheerfully before disappearing in a puff of sulfuric smoke and the faint *bamf* of imploding air.

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	2. Introductions

Izzy's scream was stuck in her throat. She dare not open her mouth to release it in the face of the wave of nasea that threatened to overwhelm her. She was dimly aware of a pair of strong, lean arms wrapped around her and a firm, warm body pressed close, supporting her as her legs shook uncontrollably.

"It will pass, Frauline." A mellow voice tinged with a Munich accent assured her, warm breath on her ear. "Take deep breaths. It will help."

Izzy did as she was instructed, taking deep, slow breaths of dusty air. Wherever she was, it was dark and smelled of old wood and dust. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the murk, she saw stained glass windows, most of which were shattered, pews pressed up against walls or tipped onto their sides and a wooden floor littered with dirt and debris. Outside, thunder rumbled warningly and an icy breeze whistled through the ruined windows. As the strength returned to her limbs, the person holding her let go and backed away. She could hear the creak of floorboards beneath his feet.

She jammed her glasses back on, pushing them up the bridge of her nose before turning to regard her rescuer. She gasped and took an involuntary step back, startled by his demonic appearance. He was nearly invisible in the darkness, his blue fur helping him blend with the deep shadows around them. Still, she could make out a finely molded angular face framed by pointed ears and set with incandescent yellow eyes. His hands and feet were strangely elongated and had only three digits each and a tail flicked, catlike, behind him. He was perched on the back of one of the pews, regarding her silently, his expression impossible to decipher in the dark.

"Are you alright?" He asked her after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence, tilting his head slightly to one side. "They did not hurt you, did they?"

"N-no. I'm fine.." Izzy managed, shaking her head as if to clear water from her ears. She forced a small smile. "Thanks." She murmured. "For helping me, I mean."

"Bitte Schon." He replied with a smile that revealed sharpened fangs.

"Where..where are we?"

"This is 's. It's an old church in District X. I like to come here when I need to think, or if I've just rescued a damsel in distress." He replied, his smile all mischief. Izzy giggled despite herself, the initial shock of coming face to face with a demon now wearing off. She found she liked him rather instinctively. Or maybe it was because she was beginning to notice how attractive he was.

"My name's Izzy." She blurted suddenly, holding a hand out to him.

"Kurt Wagner." He replied, taking her hand in his and brushing his lips across her knuckles like some sort of swashbuckling hero. "Though in the munich Circus I was known as the Incredible Flying Nightcrawler." He added, sketching an elaborate bow.

"The Circus? Get out." Izzy scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's true! I swear!" He insisted, demonstrating by leaping into the air and performing several flips before landing nimbly on his hands behind her. Izzy spun to watch his antics, a smile finding her face despite herself. She felt the last vestiges of anxiety leaving her as she listened to him regale her with tales of the circus and life on the trapeze. He had a surprisingly soothing voice. She barely noticed the passage of time or the ominous rumble of thunder.

"So tell me, Liebchen." He said suddenly, perched once more on the back of a ruined pew. "Why were those men chasing you?"

Izzy blinked, caught off guard and raised her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug.

"I have no idea." She lied, her gaze sliding away from his, determinedly locked on the stained glass windows of St. Anslem's. "I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe they were drunk." she finished lamely, hugging herself as an icy breeze whistled through the broken down old church. Nightcrawler regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, though decided not to press the matter any further. She was clearly not keen to discuss it.

"Perhaps it is time we returned you to your home, Liebchen." he said at last. "it's getting rather late."

"Yeah." Izzy sighed, turning to face him once more, a slight smile on her pale, heart shaped face. "yeah, that's probably a good idea." She began to dig in her pockets, producing a tiny silver cell phone. "Just lemme call a cab real quick.." She muttered, her voice trailing off as she punched number on the keypad. Nightcrawler chuckled and placed his three fingered hand over hers, halting her progress.

"I can get us there much faster." He said with a wink. "Just tell me where you need to be."

Izzy hesitated a moment, biting her lower lip as she stared at their entwined hands. Finally, a smile split her face and she nodded. "Alright. Sure. Why not?" She decided, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Do you know where 21st is?"

"Of course." He replied, nodding.

"I live in that Victorian on the very corner where it meets Eastonville."

He nodded, and then motioned her closer, opening his arms as if inviting her into an embrace. "You'll have to hold tight." He said simply. Taking a deep breath to calm her suddenly jangling nerves, Izzy stepped closer as he had bid, tentatively wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt her cheeks redden as he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer still against his lean chest. She smiled despite herself, closing her eyes as she breathed in the smell of his cologne and the detergent he'd used on his clothes. Even the lingering scent of brimstone was somehow pleasant.

And then they were gone, St. Anslem's left behind with a faint *bamf* sound. Izzy squeezed her eyes tight shut. They had to 'port twice more before they reached their destination, but Nightcrawler had been speaking plain truth. He certainly got her home more quickly than a cab could have. Even the nausea was not as bad this time, passing more quickly each time he made a jaunt.

"Would you like to come in?" Izzy offered as they paused outside the old Victorian house that had been converted into a series of apartments. Nightcrawler offered a smile but shook his head regretfully, a light breeze ruffling his blueblack curls and raising goose bumps on Izzy's arms.

"I'm afraid I cannot tonight, Frauline." He said softly, his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his nondescript coat.

"Oh.. Okay then.."

"But..if you are agreeable, perhaps we could meet or Ice cream later in the week?" He offered, his gaze firmly on the sidewalk. Izzy too looked away, though a small smile had quirked her full lips.

"Yeah.." She murmured. "I'd… I'd like that."

"Friday at seven? The little shop down on Platte?" He ventured, glancing up at her. She nodded mutely, feeling color steal across her cheeks. What a strange night! How did she go from getting chased by a bunch of thugs to getting asked on a date by a blue demon? Nightcrawler seemed to be thinking the same thing, chuckling slightly before bowing over her hand again and vanishing with the now familiar bamf of imploding air and the smell of sulfur.

Izzy sighed happily and let herself into the apartment, hurrying up the creaking stairs to the door with the fake gold 12, completely oblivious to the malevolent stare cast her way, completely unaware that she had had an audience at all.


	3. Girl Talk

Jardine scratched absently at his slate grey beard watching impassively as the four men looked over the photographs he had provided. Granted, they were yellowed with age, but he doubted very much the mutant freak pictured had changed overmuch.

"Do we really have to leave this thing alive?" one of the men asked, his expression twisted with disgust as he gazed down at the image of a blue furred demon on the trapeze.

"Kind of hard to make money with a corpse." Jardine growled, his voice as unlovely as the rest of him; a guttural snarl even at the best of times. "Just worry about getting him back here in one piece. Whether he stays alive or not ain't your concern after that."

The four men, members of Friends of Humanity sent by Greydon Creed, nodded obediently. They were hunters, the best the organization had to offer. They'd tracked and eliminated countless mutants with ease. This would be no different, except that this time the mutant they were hunting was to be allowed to live, though he probably would prefer death once he learned what was waiting for him at Jardine's circus of the damned.

They were all rather generic looking, average height, average build, nondescript clothes. It was all part of the job. It gave them every advantage. They hardly needed the high tech tracking gear or the armored vehicles idling in the parking lot, the tasers, the tranqs or the neural inhibitors. The mutant freak didn't stand a chance.

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The week flew by quickly, almost too quickly for Izzy's liking. Yes, she was looking forward to her date with the enigmatic Kurt Wagner, but there was so much going on; papers due, rent and utilities to pay, as well as some things she preferred not to think of, much less talk about. Her friends weren't fooled, however. They knew something was bothering her. She was jumpy, easily startled and looked as though she wasn't sleeping well or really eating. She looked drawn and tired despite her assurances that everything was fine and she was just stressed because of school. Being a literature major was hard work, she'd tell them with a strained laugh, quickly changing the subject after.

"So tell us about this guy you're meeting tonight." Lee said, finally giving up pestering her about her 'stress' related issues. "All you said was you were going for ice cream. We want the juice!" She finished, tossing her blond hair impatiently.

"Seriously!" Randilyn agreed, her sea green eyes alight with interest. "I mean, this guy must be a catch if you actually said yes for once!"

The girls, Izzy and her three friends, Lee, Randilyn and Anakalia, were seated in a loose circle on the steps of the campus library, enjoying the balmy day and some overpriced smoothies, their books and backpacks heaped on the cement beside them. Izzy flashed an embarrassed smile and dropped her gaze to the grey sidewalk, tracing a lazy circle with her index finger. The only thing that broke the silence was the sound of Anakalia sucking vigorously on her straw trying to dislodge a piece of frozen strawberry. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, his name's Kurt Wagner." She began, her voice barely audible. Already color had stolen across her porcelain skinned cheeks and she was grinning even more broadly, the expression almost dopey in it's guileless delight. "And, he's German. He has the most amazing accent…"

The other girls exchanged glances and burst into gales of laughter at tizzy's expense. She slapped half heartedly at them, almost spilling her smoothie in the process.

"See! This is why I didn't say anything! I knew you guys would laugh!" she said, though she was still grinning herself, quite aware of how foolish she looked, crushing on a guy she'd only spent maybe a half hour with. Still, he'd been so unlike other guys she'd known, the ones who wolf whistled and catcalled from passing cars or regarded her as nothing more than a phone number with legs. So what if he was blue? He'd been such a gentleman, was so warm and genuine…

"Hellooooo! Earth to Izzy!" Lee called, waving her hand in front of her face as though to wake her from a trance. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Setting your brain on screensaver." Anakalia said with a laugh. "Now, you were telling us about this Kurt Wagner guy." She added, suddenly businesslike. "What's he look like? He a dish? C'mon, spill!"

"He's honest to god, cross my heart, drop-dead gorgeous." Izzy replied, a bit smugly as she sipped her smoothie. She chuckled to herself as the others squealed in scandalized delight. It was easy, in moments like this, to forget about whatever problems she faced during the week, so easy to lose herself in the familiar comfort of companionship. It seemed too soon she was rising to her feet and bidding them farewell. Sure, she was looking forward to her date, but she was always loathe to be the first to leave.

"She's got it bad." Lee said as she and the others watched Izzy depart.

"But, she just met the guy yesterday!" Randilyn said, perplexed.

"Maybe we should follow her. You know, scope it out, make sure he's cool." Anakalia suggested.

"Izzy wouldn't like that.." Lee pointed out hesitantly.

"So we don't let her know we're there."

Randilyn was already on her feet, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and grinning at the other two girls.

"C'mon. how bad could it be? She'd do the same for us. We look out for each other."

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